


Take Flight

by nerdwegian



Series: Tumblr Prompts [15]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe, M/M, Tumblr Prompt, some violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-21
Updated: 2014-05-21
Packaged: 2018-01-25 22:44:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1665230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdwegian/pseuds/nerdwegian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil thought Clint's hands would be cold. They're not. They're warm.</p><p>(Tumblr prompt: Mythical creature/human AU.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take Flight

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Laura for the beta! Thanks to Dan for suggesting the mythical creature. <3
> 
> See additional notes at the end for detailed warnings.

"I just want to be left alone," Barton tells Nick Fury, pressing himself as far into the corner of the cell as he possibly can. Phil doesn't speak, doesn't move, but there's something in Barton's tone that gives him pause. He sounds weary, but more than that, he sounds _old_. Phil looks at Barton, barely old enough to be called a man, and wonders what he's seen to make him sound so old.

"You weren't particularly hard to find," Nick says, not unkindly. "You have to know we're not the only ones who'll be looking."

Barton raises tired eyes to Nick, holds his gaze for a moment, before looking at Phil. "I don't care," he says. He's addressing Phil.

"We care," Phil says. He's not lying. He'll always care. Nick will too, albeit on a more pragmatic scale than Phil.

Something happens in Barton's eyes. Almost like a small spark. Like he's genuinely never had anyone else care before in his life. Then it's gone and he turns away, head lolling against the brick wall. "They won't hurt me," he mumbles.

Nick takes a deep breath, one that means he's about to run out of patience, and stands up--but before he can dismiss Barton as another lost cause, Phil takes a quick step forward. "We don't want to take that chance," he says, surprising Nick almost as much as he surprises himself. "I mean--I," he corrects, when Nick raises an eyebrow at him. "I don't want to take that chance."

*

"Do you ever think maybe you made the wrong choice?" Barton--Clint--asks Phil over the headset.

Phil looks at their target, body like a ragdoll on the sidewalk. At least he can't hurt anyone ever again. "Depends on what choice you're talking about, Barton."

Phil turns and raises his eyes to the sky. Clint's barely visible on the rooftop, a dark silhouette against the clear sky. He's got one foot on the ledge, leaning forward to watch the scene below. He moves slightly, and the sunlight dances around his head, giving him a halo--a nimbus--that makes him look downright otherworldly. It's an odd trick of the light. Phil feels like someone has stolen the breath out of his lungs.

"This," Clint says. "The job. What we do."

Phil looks back at their target, and thinks about all the people who get to live because this one man died. "Sometimes," he says, even though that wasn't at all what he was planning to say.

Clint's quiet for a few seconds. "Me too."

When Phil looks back up, Clint's gone.

*

Phil's stomach is doing nauseating flip-flops. Clint's name, Clint's face, Clint's voice fills his mind, and he moves on autopilot, subduing the target and cuffing him without caring if he hurts the man in the process or not.

The gunshot had been startlingly loud, even over the roar of the river. Clint hadn't made a sound as he fell. Phil thinks Clint's silence might haunt him forever.

"Clint," Phil says, weakly, even though he means to shout it, as he runs to the railing of the bridge. There's nothing below but the rapids, and Phil's not Clint; he doesn't have his sight. Phil sees nothing.

Anger bubbles in him, rage like he's never felt before, and he's on the target with four long steps, grabbing him by the front of his shirt and shaking him hard, even though the man's barely conscious as it is. "I'm going to _end you_ ," he promises through clenched teeth.

"I didn't think that was your style," Clint says from behind Phil, who drops their target and spins around in pure shock.

"Clint!"

"I'm fine," Clint says, a little hunched over and dripping wet. "I'm fine."

"Medic, we need to get you to a medic," Phil manages, stumbling to Clint and putting both hands on his stomach, on his side, where Phil saw the bullet hit, where he saw the spray of blood--

"Phil," Clint says quietly, and it makes Phil stop. He meets Clint's eyes. Phil thinks his name sounds good on Clint's tongue.

Clint's wet hands close gently over Phil's. "Phil," he repeats, "I'm not hurt."

Phil thought Clint's hands would be cold. They're not. They're warm.

Under Phil's hands, there are no bullet holes, no blood, no trace of an impact anywhere.

"Thank god," Phil chokes out, suddenly emotional, and very embarrassed. "Clint... I..." He can't finish the sentence.

"I lost my bow in the water," Clint says sadly.

"I lost my asset in the water," Phil says back, because banter is easier than declarations.

"You got him back, though," says Clint, a tentative smile spreading across his face.

Phil nods. "I got him back."

Clint's lips are warm when Phil kisses him.

*

"I just want to be left alone," the Black Widow says. Her tone is devoid of emotion and her stare is icy.

"I know the feeling," Clint says, putting his bow on the ground. "And trust me--you don't."

Phil's not sure he's as comfortable letting his weapon go as Clint seems to be, but he still lowers his gun.

"How do I know I can trust you?" the Black Widow asks.

Clint smiles a little. "You don't know that. Not yet. But you will."

*

The shots are deafening.

Phil's head whips around just in time to see Clint stumble and fall, and Phil has a vivid sensory flashback to that day on the bridge. Except this is worse. This is so much worse.

Clint's body pitches forward over the railing, and Phil's too far away, he can't get there in time. There's a sickening crunch as Clint hits the floor, neck first, flops weakly onto his back, and then is still.

Someone behind Phil is screaming.

He staggers to Clint on rubbery legs, briefly glancing back to see Natasha laying waste to everyone there, teeth bared, fury and grief in her every movement, and Widow's Bites going off left and right.

Clint's bleeding out on the floor. His eyes flutter open weakly when Phil drops to his knees next to him.

"Clint," Phil whispers, inaudible under the noise and the fire and the screams. He wants to cradle Clint to him, hold him, kiss him, but he's scared to touch.

Clint's eyes lock on Phil's. He's taken one of the shots to his chest, another to his stomach. Phil can't immediately see the third one, but he knows it hit.

"Don't leave me alone," Clint says, and it's unsteady, but there's still surprising strength to his voice.

"I won't," Phil promises. He wonders if it's okay to cry, or if it'll make Clint feel worse. He doesn't want Clint to feel worse than he probably already does, dying and all.

"I should have told you sooner," Clint says--and then his body shivers and spasms, back arching off the floor, and Phil's scrambling backwards in shock. Fiery wings sprout from Clint's back, erupt like molten lava, and flames briefly engulf him, before they disappear in an instant, taking the wings with them, as if they were never there. Clint's left panting on his knees, in a puddle of his own blood, but his body is whole and healthy.

Phil stares.

"So, uh, you know those bird jokes you like to make?" Clint says, rubbing his neck ruefully.

Phil's eyes overflow and he pulls Clint to him, squeezing so hard that Clint gasps for breath. Clint's skin is warm, like on the bridge.

"I'm sorry," Clint says, then repeats, "I should have told you sooner."

Phil breathes in the scent of Clint, digs his fingers into Clint's shoulders, and for the first time ever, he tells Clint, "I don't care."

End.

**Author's Note:**

> Main character death, but it's not permanent. Clint's a Phoenix.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Ashes to Ashes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1670384) by [gwynhefar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gwynhefar/pseuds/gwynhefar)




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